


A List of Reasons the Bunker Shouldn't Get A Sofa:

by lizbobjones



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, gratuitous lord of the rings marathoning, heavy make outs, relentless hate towards the existence of sofas, that's basically it for the entire fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 09:52:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9379274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizbobjones/pseuds/lizbobjones
Summary: Let me count the ways that this is a terrible idea.





	

1 - The sofa in question is suspiciously abandoned.

They see it on the side of the road in a town they’re passing through for a messy ghoul hunt.

“Dude, we need that sofa,” Dean says, slowing the Impala to look.

“Since when?” Sam asks, not looking up from the stack of police reports he’s been obsessing over since the morgue.

“Since we can’t watch fuckin’ anything as a family without crowding into your room and sitting on your awful bed. We could get another TV and have an actual living room space in the Bunker.”

“Fine, but we’ve been doing that for years and you never complained, or said we should adopt every stray sofa we see. What gives?”

“What gives? I want a sofa and now we have a place to put it, story over.”

Sam gives him that annoyingly unconvinced look he gets when he is trying to remind Dean that he knows him so much better than this. He drops the subject though.

The thing that’s changed is that in the last few months, Cas has moved into the Bunker.

With Mary also there more often than not, it _could_ be a case of over-crowding. If you assumed no ulterior motives to ending the stranglehold Sam’s room had on their group media consumption.

“How would we get it back, though?”

That stumps Dean but not so much they don’t argue on and off about methods for the whole three days they’re staking out graveyards, crawling around in storm drains, and generally cursing out the existence of ghouls. The sofa remains waiting for them on the side of the road whenever they drive past that intersection.

 

2 - “It’s the worst sofa ever.”

Dean flops down on it, raising a cloud of dust, conveniently turning his back on his brother to seek solidarity elsewhere. “Don’t listen to him; this is going to change our lives.”

Cas exchanges a look with Sam. “I drove eight hundred miles to help with your hunt.”

“Yeah, uh, no. It was just the sofa. We needed your truck. The ghouls are all dead.”

“It’s been on the side of the road for at least a week,” Sam reminds Cas over Dean’s head. “And under all that dirt it looks like it was carved from old lady curtains.”

“It has character. And how hard would it be to re-upholster it? I’ve done car seats. Anyway, Cas, help me get it in your truck.”

Cas makes no move to help, possibly because Dean is still lying on the sofa, although Dean suspects he could lift it with him still on it. Instead the angel tips his head to examine the sofa with his most critical narrowed eyes. “Why not get one closer to home?”

“This one’s free and right here.”

“Well I wasn’t.”

“But now you are!”

Cas looks away, to roll his eyes in peace.

Dean gets up, dusts himself down, and starts pushing the sofa towards the kerb. “Give me a hand here?”

The anti-sofa squad gives up and Cas helps Dean finally, by doing all the heavy lifting while Dean holds an end and pretends to take some weight while he’s steering it.

 

3 - “It doesn’t even fit in the truck.”

Dean throws Sam the Impala keys and grins at Cas. “I’ll ride in the truck and keep an eye on it. As long as Cas drives slowly it will probably stay where it is.”

Cas scowls and Dean thinks maybe he was starting to get a taste for driving fast, with the wind in his hair. Or he doesn't want Dean there, especially after making him drive all that way for a sofa.

The drive is exhausting, Cas is in a bad mood, and the sofa seems determined to shake itself loose no matter what they do to secure it. Dean sleeps on and off, waking up from brief nightmares that the sofa makes a bid for freedom and Cas spitefully drives off and leaves it in the middle of the road.

At around three he wakes up because they’ve stopped – the sofa still in place – at an all-night fast food place. Cas seems to have already navigated the drive through and hands Dean a bag of all his favourite greasy things, and a coffee.

Dean does not deserve him.

“I’m sorry I made you come all the way out to collect a sofa.” He isn’t sure it’s all remorse because of burgers or at least a shade influenced by not wanting his dreams to turn prophetic.

Cas turns one of his deep sad smiles on Dean. “It’s all right. I like driving. Besides, you may have made a stupid call to get _this_ sofa –”

“Gee, thanks.”

“But it would be nice not to have to impose on Sam to watch everything together.”

“Well I’m glad you have my back.”

Cas turn away, laughing to himself. “How can a sofa cause this much strife?”

 

4 - Getting it down into the Bunker is hell.

Dean is stiff and aching from sleeping sitting up in the truck. Sam has a lot of advice which doesn’t work out. Cas is bemused by their shouting back and forth and consequentially backs the sofa into a lot of terrible corners that require advanced geometry to untangle. Dean eventually cedes leadership to Cas, after realising his direction got the sofa trapped halfway down the spiral staircase before it started acting like a lobster trap and refused to let them back out of their bad ideas…

Sweating and tired, they eventually get it as far as the bottom of the stairs, drop it in the space beneath the balcony, and silently all agree in that moment that it’s not moving again.

Dean sinks down on it and groans. He pats the cushion beside him, and Cas glances around in case Dean was gesturing someone else, but then sits.

Dean throws a leg over his lap as he gets comfortable. He is sort of expecting Cas to shove it away immediately, because Dean knows he’s being deliberately annoying now. But he doesn’t. Dean isn’t sure how to get out of this one except to start explaining the next step like it’s not at all strange he’s suddenly stretched out over Cas.

“We can plug a TV into the map table… Put it on the end there… Maybe get another mini fridge for in here…”

Sam glances around the space, just now seeming to realise that the somewhat historical accuracy they’d preserved so far was going out the window. “Just don’t scavenge the fridge and TV from the side of the road.” His voice is filled with despair.

“All the best stuff we ever owned came from the side of the road.”

“Like what.”

“Like this sofa.” Dean pats the arm rest lovingly. Sam throws his hands in the air and leaves them to it.

 

5 - It’s too comfortable.

Dean jolts awake hours later, having caught up on some of his sleepless night. He has a crick in his neck from slumping awkwardly against the arm rest. Cas is still trapped under his legs and reading. The source of the book must be Sam, sitting at the table and laughing at Dean’s groggy confusion.

“No one woke me up,” Dean complains.

“You were totally out of it. Cas eventually said it would be kinder just to let you sleep.”

Dean looks accusingly at Cas, who turns another page in the book he has resting on Dean’s legs.

“Hey, can I have my feet back?”

Cas continues reading.

 

6 - Upholstering it is a bitch.

Dean wouldn’t have kept the pink flowery cover even if it weren’t dusty and stained. Not to mention the hygienic concerns. Dean had to take a long shower once Cas had finally let him up from his unintended nap, never mind his need to beg reassurances that he hadn’t been rubbing his face on it in his sleep.

It had to go before that happened again.

Not that Dean intended to, like that. No, the falling asleep on Cas thing had been a fluke because he’d been tired and Cas couldn’t take a joke and… and nothing. That was a thought to propel him into some good uncomplicated work completely renovating the sofa.

He tears off covers for a whole day, sneezing and stabbing himself on ancient staples. He has a lot of cleaning to do and needs to buy the right stuff to make a proper job of it, never mind getting a new cover.

Sam’s treating it like Dean would if _he_ got a dog – you brought it into the house, you’re responsible for cleaning up its messes.

Cas is up for a trip into town though. Dean has to let him pick the replacement upholstery as payment for his company, but that’s fine – Cas picks a non-weird reddish leather that’s completely in keeping with the Bunker’s aesthetic and Dean’s taste. Okay, he’s not springing for real leather, but Dean does that enough when the Impala needs urgent work.

They drag it all back to the Bunker and spend a couple more days cleaning and refitting. Sam brings them beer and watches. Cas is on hand when Dean staple guns himself, and as a result finishes the rest of the dangerous work himself.

 

7 - Unfortunately, Cas now has an emotional investment in the sofa.

He doesn’t need to eat or sleep or pee. There’s no _reason_ for him to leave it between times of work that take them completely out of the Bunker. He’s not vegetating unhealthily (and Dean is keeping half an eye on him in case he does start getting weird about it), but he’s definitely becoming one with the furniture.

Dean joins him occasionally to watch TV and read, because, well, it is _his_ sofa too. He attempts to keep himself from leaning on Cas again, which after the first three times he wakes up having nodded off on Cas’s shoulder watching crappy TV to wind down at the end of the day, actually makes Dean enforce a bedtime on himself for the first time in his life because waking up slumped across Cas is getting so emotionally draining.

He’s not particularly successful at keeping to it.

Cas is very successful at staying on the sofa and not moving. Dean actually has a moment of panic waking up one morning and heading into the room to find Cas _not_ in his spot.

He finds everyone in the kitchen talking urgently about beheadings, and that takes them on the road for a month, all subsequent drama and cases they bump into on the way home accounted for.

 

8 - The sofa is a siren call.

When they get back home, Dean honestly never wants to leave again.

“We should take today to just watch sixteen hours of TV uninterrupted,” he announces, walking into the room last up of anyone, still in pyjamas and his robe, with a stack of toast balanced on top of two mugs of coffee.

Cas smiles at him as Dean drops down on the sofa and hands Cas both coffees. Drinks seem to stay warm longer when Cas holds them for Dean. He’s also stopped looking like he’s about to smite Dean when Dean asks to use him as a cup holder. Bribing him with his own coffee does the trick. It’s sort of become a routine to make himself and Cas coffee at the same time.

Sam, who is dressed and also probably went for a run in the morning, looks up from his laptop. “We have the extended Lord of the Rings, which would be the first fourteen hours.”

Dean opens his mouth to protest that he doesn’t watch nerdy shit like that but Sam is giving him that knowing, annoying look again and Dean shuts his mouth, because he’s never actually watched the films all in one go, even the shorter versions of them… Which isn’t to say he’s never watched them – they were on TV often enough to catch favourite parts over and over (he is somehow very good at landing on Moria when channel hopping) but the films had been in the cinema at all the wrong times. Specifically, the time when Sam had been away at college. And when had they ever had the luxury of as much free time as they had these days with no looming apocalypse level scenarios to ruin the fun… It will be making up lost time for everyone.

Cas turns to examine the shelf of DVDs they’d put in the space under the stairs. It was a small collection – they tended to pick up DVDs sporadically at gas stations and were still acclimatising to a life where they could own clutter – but the unopened Lord of the Rings DVDs had pride of place. Dean has a feeling Sam has been hoping for an excuse to watch them for months. Dean pulls the first one off the shelf, leaning over Cas to do so, and throws the DVD to Sam.

“Call Mom and tell her to get over here – it’s an emergency.”

Sam laughs, shaking his head, and goes to make a call which absolutely does not stress how they would all die if she doesn’t show up in the next hour.

She's there in half an hour.

 

9 - After all that fuss it isn’t even a sofa that can hold four people comfortably.

Dean crushes up against Cas on one side (he has his spot at the end and that was not up for debate), Mary on the other, and Sam sits on a pile of quilts and pillows they’d collected from around the Bunker to separate him from the icy cold concrete floor.

They have a plan to rotate seats from time to time, but while they’re still trying to get comfortable with Mary overcrowding what Dean has been pretending is not a loveseat, Cas offers to just stand beside the sofa for fourteen hours because, well, he _could_ do that if he wanted.

Dean stares at him in unfocused thought, having a lot of feelings all at once about how Cas has chosen to go through all the trouble to help Dean with the sofa, and become fond enough of it to sit on it pretty much all the time… And he doesn’t even _need_ to. Dean hasn’t thought in a long time about the choices Cas makes out of desire and because he had the freedom to do it, to act human. To enjoy doing human things. He’s been so amused at Cas staying on the sofa without the need of a single comfort break for days on end like an angel, that he’s overlooked that, well, Cas has adopted the sofa and hasn’t been standing around not feeling the need to sit down at all…

It puts a sudden importance on it all.

Dean puts a hand on Cas’s shoulder, not really exerting any pressure, but intending to ground him if he tries to move. “No, you get your turns on the sofa just like the rest of us.”

Sam, who is apparently enjoying being the only one with access to anything outside arms reach of the sofa, glances around to check they’re all in place, and hits play.

Cas shifts around to sink deeper into the sofa, settling in for the long haul, and Dean realises he still has his hand right there on Cas’s shoulder, and, honestly, they’re crammed in so closely that he’s not sure where else to put it. He settles on a sort of reverse sneaky move to put an arm around someone, and shifts to put his hand on the back of the sofa, his arm still behind Cas. Cas rests his head back against Dean’s arm, and Dean falls into a reverie about how screwed he is and only tunes in again at Sam laughing about the hobbits developing a keen interest in the brewing of ale and the smoking of pipe weed.

“The Shire is definitely the place to go for a party,” Dean says, then winces and glances over at Mary, who is laughing.

She winks at him and turns her attention back to the screen.

 

10 - The sofa’s cheap choice of pleather covering squeaks constantly.

Dean feels tensed up all down the side pressed against Cas, because Cas is warm and firm and way too close and Dean’s already half leaning on him.

Every time Cas reaches over to take a single piece of popcorn at a time from the bowl in Dean’s lap, Dean feels hairs rising on the back of his neck. He’s not going to remind Cas the normal way humans do this is to take a great big handful of popcorn though.

Cas leans over and takes another piece of popcorn. Dean shifts around enough that the sofa vocally announces his discomfort.

It’s also too hot. Dean is full of regrets and they’re only halfway through the first movie.

“I’m grabbing a beer,” he announces, drops the bowl of popcorn in Mary’s lap, and hauls himself out of the sofa. Sam’s complaint about the time of day follows him down the hall – he shouts back that clearly they’re on vacation, and it’s justified.

When he gets back Sam has stolen his seat and is holding the popcorn. Dean rolls his eyes and Cas tells him to sit down because he’s in the way of the screen. The only real response to that is to sit himself down right in front of Cas and lean back against his legs.

Dean honestly has no real memory of how Sam was sitting while he was down here – had he leaned on them? Had he given up and lounged on the floor like an overgrown puppy at their feet? It was a non-concern, as long as Dean was in a room full of happy, alive loved ones. And now he was leaning his back against Cas’s legs and Sam was literally right there with his knee by Dean’s ear and Dean has never felt more paranoid about Sam observing shit about Dean and his complicated feelings for Cas than he has in this moment. He can’t see if Sam is watching him, or from this angle what would be suspicious of him to do while leaning against Cas or…

Cas shifts behind him, with another groan from the sofa, and his hand appears in Dean’s peripheral vision, holding out a single piece of popcorn.

Dean takes it wordlessly and is so confused he forgets to open his beer for another ten minutes and three more bits of randomly offered popcorn.

 

11 - It’s encouraging them to be couch potatoes.

Dean wakes up somewhere in the middle of the second film, before the big battle. He got to move back to his spot beside Cas at the disc change, but even his unrepentant love of Aragorn hadn’t topped weeks of hunting and a day spent driving. He was out like a light once Treebeard started rumbling out his lullaby to the hobbits, and now he gets to wake up with his head on Cas’s shoulder.

Stupid talking tree.

But don’t be hasty, he says, and Dean knows he’s got a window here where he’s presumed to be asleep but he can enjoy the moment. He may have to deal with the awkwardness of sleeping on top of Cas in front of everyone once he’s awake… it just makes sense to delay that roasting.

Besides, Cas’s arm is over his shoulder, and not tactically careful like when Dean sneakily put his own arm over the back of the sofa. Dean’s being pulled into a sideways hug. He’s practically nuzzling Cas’s shoulder. It feels protective. Sweet. He likes the feeling of Cas gently but firmly holding him against his side.

Dean shifts his arm, feeling it slowly going dead, trapped between them. He doesn’t have a whole lot of options of how to move it without revealing he’s awake. His sleep-addled brain hits on a brilliant idea – or philosophy, maybe – if he’s presumed to be asleep and all his actions like cuddling Cas like this can be blamed on that, then where’s the harm…

He puts his hand on Cas’s thigh.

Cas doesn’t even twitch.

He has to know Dean is awake, right?

Dean has several minutes run up to another stellar idea from the same school of thought as the first. It’s driving him crazy not to know if Cas has reacted. He can’t even concentrate on enjoying the movie with his eyes closed.

He squeezes Cas’s thigh slowly and deliberately, enjoying the sensation of solid muscle under his hand (and wow Cas has a lot more of that than he expected). He’s lost all fear as long as his eyes are closed. It doesn’t count, somehow.

Cas shifts a little, maybe only so much that Dean will notice, pressed up against him and waiting like a tensed wire for a response. Dean moves his hands just a little further up Cas’s leg, just enough to imply movement, and Cas shifts around much more, enough to be dangerously close to a loud sofa squeak. He moves to fold his hands in his lap, covering Dean’s hand with his own in the same motion.

Dean’s heart is beating a thousand miles an hour and they’re only half-holding hands (and, well, Dean is groping Cas a little). Not that he really consciously intended this but now it seems embarrassingly obvious, and, look, he’s holding Cas’s hand now. The time to be precious about it has passed.

And Cas _knows_ what they’re doing. His fingertips resting so casually on top of Dean’s hand are moving carelessly to run over his knuckles in tiny motions, trying out the idea of touching Dean in a way that he’s never been allowed before. Dean traces his thumb back and forth along the inside of Cas’s leg, and he fights to contain a shiver of amazement that they’re actually doing this, that he’s crossed the line finally that weeks of leaning on Cas while watching TV or reading hadn’t quite reached.

He’d needed ten hours of Lord of the Rings to get there.

 

12 - The sofa isn’t really big enough for two either.

When the credits roll on _The Two Towers_ , the haunting song is accompanied by an audible rumble from Mary’s stomach.

“So, we’re breaking for food,” Sam laughs.

At the first note of the end credit music, Cas had nudged Dean to pull his hand back to his side, pre-empting Dean’s nervousness about this being something the entire family finds out about before Dean even really knows what this is for himself. Dean's stuck pretending to be asleep because now everyone else is finally going to look away from the screen, and... If he "wakes up", he's going to have to look at Sam watching him slowly peel his head from Cas's shoulder, lever himself away from the angel like this was all some confusing mistake. If he stays right where he is, he doesn't have to pretend he doesn't want to be there. He selfishly wants to keep Cas to himself and for once in his life that seems like something he can actually do. By not doing anything.

“We need pizza,” Mary decides for them out loud. She nudges Dean’s shoulder. 

“He slept through the whole film,” Cas says.

“Dean did take a lot of punishment in that last vamp case,” Sam says, by the sound of his voice he’s apparently leaning curiously over Dean. Dean knows he’ll probably snap if Sam pokes him, and ruin everything, but fortunately no poking occurs. “Maybe we should let him sleep. Are you okay with that?”

“I don’t need to get up and stretch my legs. Go get pizza. I’m sure Dean will wake up for that.”

“Right, fair enough.”

“We need an address that they deliver pizza to,” Mary says, getting up to stretch.

Laughing, she and Sam head out.

When the Bunker door slams, Dean feels his heart rate pick right up again. He has to open his eyes eventually. Cas seems perfectly happy to keep sitting here, possibly forever. He hasn’t even moved to either put his arm around Dean again _or_ take his hand, but Dean’s still “sleeping” on his shoulder, and it’s comfortable and peaceful… And Dean’s freaking out about what comes next. Just that he knows, when he opens his eyes, everything is going to be real.

Finally, the tension gets too much and he shifts his head, cracks his eyes open, ready to face the music.

Cas is looking at him with the sort of awe that Dean can’t believe anyone would ever use to look at him, except that Cas has been doing it about as long as they’ve known each other, in one way or another. The look is way more intense than normal, though. And up close. Eyelash-counting close.

“Hey,” Dean says.

Cas puts a hand on Dean’s cheek, runs his thumb gently across Dean’s lips, and without bothering to talk, leans in to kiss him.

“Okay,” Dean says when their lips part and he’s gazing at Cas in a stupor. “Okay.”

Cas kisses him again.

It only takes a few more kisses before they silently agree their frustration with being cramped up at the end of the sofa, and stretch out. On a two-person loveseat, Dean ends up with a foot hooked over the arm rest, and one on the floor like he’s the romantic interest in an old movie, as Cas bowls him over in his quest to take as many hungry kisses as possible from Dean. He has a foot scrabbling for purchase on the floor and a knee planted between Dean’s legs. Dean is trembling as he fights the urge to grind against that knee… He has to cry uncle.

“Cas, we can’t… Do this on a sofa we’re gonna be sharing with my mom again in half an hour.”

“Do what?” Cas asks, rumpled and staring at Dean with an adoration he has no idea what to do with but will have to save the freak out about until later.

He pushes against Cas’s leg desperately enough he feels his eyes roll back in his head, and he can’t help the shaky moan that escapes his lips.

It takes nearly an hour to get pizza to the Bunker.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas whispers and pushes back so urgently that they both lose their footing and topple off the sofa onto the floor.

Dean lies there winded and crushed by Cas for a second. “Fuck,” he eventually ventures, laughing shakily.

They catch their breath, and Cas lifts himself off Dean a little. He still looks somewhere between awestruck and just struck by lightning. Dean’s taken the bump as a wake up call to pull himself together, so he sighs and untangles himself from Cas.

“Okay, whatever this is, and we work that out when we don’t have another four hours of movies to watch with immediate family piled on top of us… We’re not ruling out sofa sex long term, but we need to strategize and we don’t have time right now.”

“You sound hysterical.”

“We just made out, Cas.”

“I’ve been wanting to do that from the moment we started watching the film.”

“Really? Because, no big deal, I thought we might have had a moment or two before that… Every time we’ve met… for nearly ten years.”

Cas rolls his eyes and sits heavily on the sofa again. He pats the space beside him, and Dean joins him.

 

13 - The sofa is a fucking cockblock.

 

14 - It’s also really hard to get pizza stains out of the pleather.

And Dean can’t get annoyed about it because his mom put them all there.

They came back, stuck the movie on, and no one noticed that Dean and Cas had made out while they were gone. Just handed out pizza and didn’t even look suspicious or like they were entertaining the thought that it could have happened the moment the two of them were left unattended. Didn't even pay attention to Cas's hair or the wild look in his eyes, or the way Dean is shifting impatiently, knowing he's got another four hour movie to sit through before he can even really talk to Cas about what happened, never mind try a round two.

So Dean’s vague fear that _of course they’d know_ begins to slip away, especially when Mary’s fussing about the mess she made of the pizza and Sam’s now the one nodding off. Dean begs a blanket for the sofa, and holds Cas’s hand under it.

If they didn’t just magically figure it out from sight, he’ll probably have to tell them soon. He holds Cas’s hand sneakily for four hours and feels like he’s on the fucking moon.  He’s never held hands like this before – not in a way where it’s just a comfortable reassurance that what passed between them happened, will happen again… That things have changed but it is domestic and comfortable. Normal. Suddenly it doesn’t seem so crazy to share this part of his world.

Mary continues to complain about the changes to the book, waving a third piece of dangerously soggy pizza right over the arm of the sofa.

 

15 - The sofa is right in the most public space in the Bunker.

Dean wakes up the next morning again snuggled up to Cas. His legs are cramped from the sofa’s confining space, but the rest of him is surprisingly comfortable considering he’s being squished into the cushions at the back. Cas weighs approximately as much as an actual star, slumped over him and apparently dozing, if that was something he could choose to do. Dean’s overheated like he’s been lying on the surface of a star too. He pushes grumpily at Cas to try and get some air to breathe, and his sudden movement is met with a cough from across the room.

He struggles to sit up, with Cas waking up (if he was ever asleep) beside him and also trying to sit up in the same scant amount of space. He finally gets a clear view across the room, and finds Mary is leaning against the table, eating cold pizza and watching them.

She looks about as alarmed as Dean feels to actually have this conversation.

“Good morning, Dean. Cas.”

“Hi Mom.”

“Good morning, Mary.”

Mary gestures at them with her slice of pizza. “It really doesn’t look good for your back to sleep on the sofa like that.”

Dean guiltily stretches and rolls his shoulder and winces at the cracking noise. “We didn’t mean to… I think we just melded with the sofa after so many hours.”

Cas nods beside him. “No one made a decision to sleep here,” he confirms. His hand behind Dean's back traces gently up and down under Dean's t-shirt.

Mary gives them a small, nervous smile, and awkward silence threatens. Dean’s still sitting essentially between Cas’s legs; he’s clinging to Cas with a hand on his waist where hopefully Mary can’t see it and one on his shoulder with a fist full of Cas’s shirt, where she can. The angel’s wearing incriminatingly few layers – he’s right that they didn’t decide to sleep on the sofa, but they definitely hung back when the credits were rolling with a promise to tidy up, which turned into more kissing as soon as Mary and Sam were safely away. They hadn’t got much further because movie fatigue had overwhelmed Dean, but he  _had_ achieved a lifetime goal of pulling off outer layers from Cas so he wasn't totally unsatisfied.

Eventually, while they just sit there blushing, Mary asks, “Do you want some pizza?” She picks up the box and waves it at them.

“Mom, I swear if you bring the pizza anywhere near the sofa I’m going to ban you from it forever.”

She laughs. “Noted. I’ll, uh, let you… get on with it.”

Mary turns to leave, and almost walks into Sam, coming into the room with a bowl of cereal in his hands.

“Morning, Sam,” Mary says, rigidly not looking in Dean and Cas’s direction. She edges around Sam and disappears down the hall, and Sam is so busy staring after her in confusion about her mood, that it takes him a long moment to finally turn and look at the sofa, where Dean and Cas are still clinging to each other.

He drops the bowl, spilling cornflakes across the floor. “Did you two –”

Dean groans and pulls the blanket over his and Cas’s heads.

 

16 – It semi-officially becomes Cas and Dean’s sofa.

They are found there almost all the time when they’re home. Watching TV, reading together, sleeping in an uncomfortable heap despite the stiff limbs and warnings from Mary… Making out when they think they can get away with it (not that they’re reliable judges of that).

Never mind banning others from it – it becomes their sole property. Even casual visitors to the Bunker are warned away from it with a look from Sam or Mary.

 

17 – Just, generally, it’s dangerous to bring new furniture into the bunker.

“Hey, Dean. Stop the car.”

“What? Are you okay, Sam?!”

“I just saw a sofa on the side of the road and it looked in pretty good condition.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Dude, we _need_ that sofa.”

“Since when?”

“Take a wild guess.” Sam glares at him, and then twists to look out the back window. “I think there’s a matching armchair.”


End file.
